


Learning the Steps

by 2c31h42n2o6



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2c31h42n2o6/pseuds/2c31h42n2o6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur teaches Alfred how to dance.  Alfred already knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He was leaning against the wall next to the standing table they always meet by in the coffee shop just down the road from his apartment. They’d agreed some weeks ago that they should meet here before heading over to Arthur’s place. That way Alfred could pay him in tea that wasn’t weak or watery. It made Alfred smile, he knew his tea sucked.

There were people milling about, a couple girls nursing cappuccinos and typing away on laptops, an older gentleman with a briefcase who looked like he was taking a momentary break from the world. The barista knew them by name and he had asked her to make Arthur’s usual tea the moment he stepped into the shop so it wouldn’t be cold. His chest felt tight at the smile he’d received. He missed it when Arthur did that, smiled. When he was little Arthur always seemed wistful of the sea, and he’d get a couple the closer they were to port, but after he’d had that growth spurt, his smiles had been few and far between.  
The little chime above the door signaled Arthur’s entrance and he knew Kathy was already pouring. He put on a glinting smile for the Englishman and went to get his earl grey for him. He thanked and paid Kathy before wandering back over to Arthur, who had his head propped up with one hand on the table with his eyes lidded. He looked tired as all hell.

“Rough day?” He handed him the tea and resumed his position propped against the wall. The Brit took a sip before answering, humming in approval.  
“You could say. Something about the IRA, I don’t quite remember all of it, it was very repetitive and I’m sure we got off track at some point. Would you like to head over?” The blonde’s hair was getting longer than it had been for a few months, he knew Arthur cut it every three months or so, and was just a whisper above his closed eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” He watched as the blonde shifted every bone in his body as though it were a chore. It took the American few strides to get to the door, and he made sure to hold it open. It was one of those that snapped closed with all the force of a rubber band the second you let go and he didn’t want Arthur to get hit the second he realized he was supposed to be awake.

It was a short walk back to Arthur’s apartment- damn well not a flat- and while it was sunny it was also brisk. Leave it to England to have some of the most temperamental weather, much like the nation himself. There were days Alfred couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and others he felt the man would never speak again. He supposed that was just how it was, after all, Feliciano was always a cheery person and he always had to deal with sweltering heat so intense even after you were in your bathing suit it made you want to shed something else. 

The whole arrangement had started up a few weeks back when Alfred had been recounting a past benefit at the white house where the First Lady had insisted he go dance. Alfred had told Arthur he didn’t know how and was surprised it hadn’t been part of his noble upbringing. The older nation had said that if he hadn’t been called back to his homeland he would have taught him, and said if he was so concerned, he could always teach him now. Alfred had been caught off guard at that and had said he could probably get off for a couple days every other week, and if he asked the First Lady, he could definitely catch a fair break. So that was it then, Alfred would fly over to London when he could, drop by their cafe, and walk Arthur to his place tea in tow so Arthur could teach him the fine art of ballroom dancing. 

Now though, Alfred wasn’t sure he could ask Arthur to continue to teach him like this. He knew the EU meetings were starting to get to him, this had been the third day in a row that Arthur had looked on the verge of falling over. Alfred was beginning to worry it was his fault keeping the nation away from his work just to waste time on a lie.

Alfred knew how to dance. After The First Lady brought it up. The First of the First Ladies. It was just that after he had proved to her he could, he never did. Well, that's not entirely true. He and Martha had had one dance, but then Alfred had politely declined any other invitation that wasn't some new cool move. He hadn't waltzed in decades. He wasn’t amazing at it, and was a little rough around the edges, but he knew the basics and could hold his own. The reason he had brought it up to Arthur was because he was trying to make a joke, and not an entirely kind one. The relationship between the two countries was an easy on, they were allies, but the relationship between their personas was a tad strained. The single greatest wrench thrown at them was Alfred’s independence. Arthur was over it now, it was in the past, what continued to hurt was the way Alfred kept poking at him, prodding. Alfred knew that Arthur didn’t like him anymore, that he was a nuisance only to be tolerated at world meetings. That was why Alfred had jumped on the chance to spend time with him. To win back a friend. He knew his banter was not always received well, and just wanted the old nation back, the one who used to smile. So, ignoring the fact the comment had been meant to get a rise out of him, Alfred had of course said yes.

The pair halted before Arthur’s door, he owned the entire landing floor of the building complex and fished out the key from his pocket. The walk had been brief and without conversation. During which, Arthur had moved closer to his taller companion. He was looking drowsy and Alfred was a solid and warm presence at his side. By the time they had paused he was almost tucked into Alfred’s arm. His eyelids drooped as he unlocked the door and doffed his coat, Alfred hanging his on the hook next to it. The other nation then removed his shoes and left them neatly in line with England’s. 

Arthur’s floor started with a hallway that went in two directions. To the left was the living room, kitchen, dining room, and office. To the right was his room, two guest rooms, the laundry room, a bathroom, and two storage closets. The hallways were wide enough that both men could stand shoulder to shoulder and the level itself was painted with a soft chalky color that wasn’t quite white. The living room was carpeted but had hardwood underneath that melded into the dining room. A wraparound counter separated the kitchen from the dining room, which was pretty simple and mostly wooden surfaces. The living room was simply a couple reclinable chairs and a couch that had a coffee table between them and the television. 

Arthur was about to turn left when Alfred tucked his arm around his waist and steered him the other direction. He felt the other nation tense under him and sighed as he prepared himself for the argument he was in for. England never did like being told what to do. 

“Alfred what the bloody hell are you up to?” Alfred closed his eyes and didn’t let up, not quite having to use his strength to keep Arthur walking forward.  
“You are going to take a nap.” America could feel Arthur bristle. “No arguments. You look exhausted, Arthur. I will not be responsible for you falling asleep. We can skip today, ust please take a rest. I’ll wake you in a couple hours so you can finish any work you’re convinced needs doing, but there is no way you are staying up any longer.” 

Alfred had never been in Arthur’s room before, or at least, not in this new home of his. It had been hundreds of years since either of them had seriously encroached on the other’s space, but Alfred was having none of this. He pushed to door open and was not surprised in the least. A neatly made bed with a simple white comforter and two perfectly creased pillows. Alfred smiled as he pushed the other man inside, protesting with scattered swears.

“Look you dolt, I’m fine. As much as I appreciate the concern I am perfectly cap-” Arthur’s sentence was interrupted with a yawn. He tried to stifle it with the back of his hand, but Alfred was not convinced. “-able of taking care of myself. Now please, let’s get this over with, I have several important-”  
“Nope. Arthur, I mean it. You are taking a nap.” He felt a little twinge in his chest, but all the same, he wrapped his arms around the older nation and together they fell into the bed. Arthur made a small gasp of surprise and Alfred let out a small laugh as Arthur hurled his fist at him, smacking him in the chest with a thud.

“What the fuck is your problem you git, unhand me!” Alfred continued to laugh and just tightened his hold on the struggling blonde. He smiled until he felt the older man slowly relax, slowly releasing him so as not to bruise. He knew what his strength could do if he kept up, and the point was not to hurt England.

“Look, I’m sorry about the force, but you’re going to sleep. I suggest you acclimate yourself to that, and the sooner you’re out the sooner you can work on your several important tasks.” His grip only completely released when he felt the slight nod.

“Fine, now bugger off. If you touch a thing in this flat I swear to god-”

“Geez, Arthur, relax. I’ll be fine. I’m gonna go watch some quiet Tv and maybe catch up on some things my boss has been sending me. I’ll be fine.” He smiled encouragingly as he was waved off by the island nation.

He waited outside the door until he was sure Arthur was asleep and went back to the other man’s living room. The coffee table was still beside the Tv from the other day when he had moved it. Arthur had been teaching him the box step and he’d kept practicing, day and night just so he could see the look on his face when he did it perfectly. 

Carefully, he repositioned the table where it had been, matching it with the imprints in the carpet. He looked at the Tv and decided it would be too loud, anything he would want to watch would mean him laughing at someone so, best not. Instead, he got out his iphone and scanned through his emails. There were a couple there from his boss, telling him he had to be back that Friday, and to bring England with him. That was two days from then, so he didn’t have a ton of time to be wasting anyway. May as well finish his work now, when Arthur couldn’t pester him about it.

His emails were written and sent by the end of the hour. All he had left was some speech for a small conference that was about a month away, and since it didn’t need doing at the moment, he put it off and checked the time. It was only five o’clock. Arthur normally ate around seven, and he had promised the man two hours of rest at least. He knew the man never slept less than three hours, but never more than eight. He supposed the least he could do was whip up some sort of meal. His stomach grumbled at the thought and he smiled as he went to go check Arthur’s fridge to see if the man had anything edible.   
There was beer, eggs, what looked like it could have been an animal, and a shit ton of vegetables. Alfred sighed and checked his wallet, crossing his fingers he hadn’t forgotten his visa. Shaking his head, he realized it must be back at his hotel. He supposed he’d have enough time if he hired a taxi. He turned off the lights, left a note in case Arthur woke up while he was gone, and grabbed his coat. There was no way he was eating whatever the hell was in that fridge. 

Alfred loved food. All sorts of food, he ate everything. Mostly, he tended to lean towards ease and cost. His schedule was busy, and his pay was enough, but he didn’t see the need to waste money on every meal, especially when he ate as much as he did. He simply couldn’t afford to always hand cook every meal. So when he had the time, and resources, he did. Besides, England’s cooking was horrible. Always charred and flavorless. He never remembered to check the food because he got sidetracked so often. He’d put something in and then start to work on something that would take considerably more time than the food needed to cook. Honestly, he was surprised he hadn’t burned his apartment down yet. He remembered having to run for help after one particularly bad dinner. His first officer had not been happy. Setting a boat on fire when it was in the middle of the ocean was never good.

He always ate it though. Whatever concoction Arthur had cooked up, Alfred always ate it with a smile. For the life of him he couldn’t remember why. He knew the food was terrible. It couldn’t have been that it was because he saw the way the others treated him. England. The way they would laugh at him when they were on duty. He had been sitting up by Arthur, who had been showing him the steering wheel when he heard one of the men on the main mast make an offhand comment about stopping in port to get something edible. The way Arthur’s face had fallen. His men respected the hell out of his command capabilities, he had proven time and time again that not only could he hold his own, but that he was unstoppable. Still, when your commanding officer has no fault other that his ability to cook, you latch onto it. Alfred still remembered that look Arthur had gotten. It was like he was looking at what was in front of him, but not seeing it. 

Four world conferences ago Arthur had been the last to arrive because one of his brothers had called him before hand. He had seen that same look on his face. God he had wanted to hug the man. But he knew he couldn’t. Arthur didn’t even see him as a friend. So instead he sat next to him through the whole meeting and hadn’t said a thing. Not a single thing, there was absolutely nothing Arthur could have been annoyed about. He spoke when spoken to, asked things politely, and only raised his voice once. Afterwards Arthur had stopped him and asked if there had been something wrong, if he was alright. If he was alright. So Alfred had said fuck it. He’d wrapped the nation in the tightest hug he was sure wouldn’t leave bruises. The faint sound of air rushing from his lungs was all the response he got. When he’d pulled back he put on the best understanding smile he could, hoping Arthur got the message. He was fine, but he knew something was up with Arthur. For the first time in months he’d heard the other nation laugh. Arthur pulled him back into a hug, thanking him.  
It had only taken him an hour and a half to get everything, so he had a half hour left to start preparing it all. He’d gotten wine, steaks, and some more vegetables so he could make salads. Alfred also picked up some cake mix, because it had been years since he’d baked his last Betty Crocker triple chocolate cake. He figured he’d let Arthur wake up on his own, to the awesome smell of food.

There was a small window garden near Arthur’s front door. It was a symphony of colors and tucked under the rim was Arthur’s spare key. After letting himself in, Alfred got to work in the kitchen. He just hoped the other nation wasn’t upset with him for letting him sleep and extra hour.

Arthur had been exhausted. His whole day had been spent in meeting after meeting. He’d missed breakfast because he’d slept in late, and had to skip lunch do to a conference running long. The first thing he’d consumed all day had been the tea Alfred had bought him. Speaking of which he could swear he smelt something. 

Gradually, Arthur opened his eyes. His room was still in the twilight. There was no longer sun peeking through his windows and he was alone in the silence. He’d been dreaming of the ocean, back in his days of defeating Spain’s armadas. A smile touched his lips as he stood. Looking down he realized he was still in his pajamas and hurriedly sought something suitable. His clock read seven and he cursed Alfred under his breath. Nothing damming, just a simple hex for bad luck. That was when he heard it. A loud bang came from down the hall and the older nation flung open the door to see what was the commotion.  
There, holding a frying pan, was Alfred. Texas askew and he was standing on one foot, glaring daggers at the piece of kitchenware. It was then that Arthur realized the entire flat was drenched in the smell of food. Looking past the blonde he saw what looked to be salad, steak, potatoes, and several other dishes. Funny. He didn’t remember having that much food in his pantry.

“Lad, what in blazes do you think you’re doing! I told you to wake me up and hour ago! And why are you in my kitchen you dolt, you know I can cook just fine.” He tilted his head up and crinkled his nose. Alfred thought he looked mildly insulted.

“Aww Arthur, I know that. I just thought you’d want something edible after yelling at me. Besides, it’s the least I could do for not waking you up, and wearing you out. Oh, and making you teach me to dance. That too. Come on, I got cool stuff and you’ll love it I’m sure. Besides, all you had was vegetables. This is so much better!” He held out some mixture of his own preparation, offering Arthur a taste. His stomach rumbled at the smell and offering of food, and such appetizing food. Dutifully, he opened his mouth, accepting the concoction and damn. Arthur doesn’t know where he got if from. Alfred could actually cook. He felt a twinge of jealousy. Alfred always made fantastic food, just like Francis and Matthew. He didn’t know where he went wrong. He tried, he really did.

“Bloody hell. I accept your apology, lad. Where did you get this? I didn’t have this…” Color rushed to Alfred’s cheeks and he smiled bashfully, tilting his head to the side.

“I may have run out while you were asleep- but I remembered to lock the door! Don’t worry! I also picked up some minor groceries. I didn’t recognize half of what was in your fridge, so I just bought a bit of everything. I’m making steak! You still mad?” Alfred looked as though he was prepared for an assault. Arthur sighed and rubbed the space between his forehead and his nose. Had he done this too? Had he fucked this up as well? Taught the boy that all he’d ever get in life was one long lecture?

“No Alfred, I’m not angry. That was quite brilliant. Thank you. I did not mean to be so cross, I haven’t eaten all day, and sleep has been nonexistent. Thank you Alfred, really.” Arthur was graced with the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen a person make. He wasn’t sure how Alfred did it, his face was like no other. He thought that on anyone else, their face would break from the weight of the smile. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. Alfred never looked at him like that. It’d been centuries since he’d seen that look.

“You’re welcome Arthur, now don’t think I missed that. Skipping two meals? Shame on you! Here,” he hustled Arthur over to the table and sat him down, “you will eat what I put in front of you, unless it’s terrible then don’t eat it and I’m sorry, but otherwise, no exceptions! I will stuff you till you’ve gained the weight of a whole cow! Hell Arthur you could do with some weight…” The oven beeped and Alfred was quick to get everything out and plated and before him in minutes. Arthur was overwhelmed. This was too much.

“Alfred, it’s not that I don’t appreciate this, because I do, but I don’t understand what happened to warrant this. This-” Arthur made a vague gesture to the meal “was not necessary. It’s lovely, but not merited.” Alfred looked as though he’d lost his mind and asked if he had a spare.

“What the hell are you talking about! Why wouldn’t you deserve this? Jesus Arthur, I cooked dinner. It’s not like I refurbished your house and gave you Alaska! You’ve been helping me so much, and we never- we’re never together like this. We rarely talk- outside of meetings- and I was just. This was the absolute least I could do.” This was getting a little too heart felt a little too fast. Arthur had not meant that he thought he didn’t- he didn’t mean to imply- of course he’d spend time with Alfred outside of- shit this was deep.

With a sigh Arthur took a bite of what Alfred had made and mulled over their conversation. “Look, Alfred. Thank you. I’m sorry we haven’t- I haven’t- seen you in ages. I wasn’t aware you’d wanted to- I was under the impression- God Alfred I’m tired and this is a bit much. If you give me a few minutes and a plate’s worth of food I swear I will finish my sentence but I’m afraid I am absolutely incapable of focusing when that looks so appetizing.” He felt Alfred smile a nod and they ate in silence.

Two plates later, and four cups of tea- which Alfred had almost done correctly- Arthur paused in his meal, sighed, and readied himself for the conversation at hand.

“Okay. What brought this on then?” Alfred stopped and swallowed before attempting to answer. There had been an incident at a luncheon a few months ago and Alfred had almost choked to death trying to speak with his mouth full. The lad only had to be told once.

“I can’t remember the last time we actually spent time together, can you? It’s been decades. After the wars- Arthur are we okay? I’m sorry that I don’t know what brought this- I appreciate you teaching me to dance- I don’t know how we got to this topic-” Trust the boy to not know what to do. Arthur was sure he didn’t even know what he was really asking.

“Oh Alfred. We never did clear the air did we? Well, I suppose now’s as good a time as any. I respect your independence.” Shellshocked. That’s what Alfred’s face reminded Arthur of. Those boys who’d been told they were going home, and the reality of what that meant. Mouth open, ocean eyes wide, eyebrows high. 

What the hell was going on? How did it come to this? Why did it always come to this? Couldn’t they have a nice fucking meal without dragging old fights into it? Alfred couldn’t believe his fucking ears. Arthur- bushy eyebrows with an ancient disposition- respected America’s independence. What the hell was happening?

“I- Arthur. Come on now old man, you think I didn’t know that?” Alfred watched Arthur flinch and cringed. He reached out his hand, opening his mouth- shit fuck, why’d he say that? “I’m sorry I- er. Shit Arthur I don’t. Fuck. Sorry, I mean. Fucking Christ Arthur it always comes to this doesn’t it?” The apology was not was Arthur had been expecting. America fucking up had been expected, but shit the backtracking was new.

“Alfred it’s. Yes, we do.” He had just started to relax, he was going to trust him again- God help him- and he knew what he was in for. He knew what he was doing.

“Why does it come to this Arthur, why?” Rueful. That was the word. Alfred looked sadly apologetic. Now why on earth would he look like that?

“Because my dear boy, neither of us will admit we were both in the wrong.” A fucking bomb. That’s what he had just dropped. How in the fuck Arthur was still speaking in complete sentences Alfred didn’t know, but he was and Alfred was scrambling. Fuck- he just wanted them to be okay again- this was the road to trouble and they fucking knew it.

“Yes.” Alfred surprised them both with that single declaration. They were both responsible for the revolution. Arthur for the taxes, and Alfred for the force. He had broken Arthur, left him bleeding in his wake. Stabbing him in the back with a butcher’s knife from a well known associate. This was not one sided as they had both pretended. 

They said nothing for a long while. Simply looked at each other. God, you could taste more than Alfred’s cooking in the room. Alfred was scared to say a word for fear of breaking the mood and causing something this serious, this important, to become a moot point. Arthur must’ve seen in because he nodded slowly.  
The older nation shook his head and whispered “Dear God boy, what will I do with you?” Alfred didn’t have an answer. He simply opened his mouth just to close it again. 

Arthur felt it. He thought he’d buried it long ago, but in that moment, just barely awake and stuffed to the maximum limit of his body, he felt the tug. He felt the ping in his heart. He felt the skip of his heart. His chest was tight and his throat was closed. Only for a moment. God, he was over this. Why now? His eyes couldn’t move from him, they were glued to those eyes hiding just behind Texas.

Alfred couldn’t move. He wanted to squirm, he wanted to laugh, he wanted to run, he wanted to ki- He just didn’t want to continue to sit in his spot, staring at Arthur. For a man who never said what he was thinking, Arthur was being awfully trusting. Alfred couldn’t stand it. He wanted to scream at him. What makes you think I won’t do it again? Why are you telling me this? Why are you trusting me? Don’t you see what I’ll do? What I’ve always done?

Both men were startled when Arthur’s fork hit ceramic and clinked against an empty plate. The sharp glance, and breath intake brought both men to a hault. Carefully looking back up, they started to laugh. God what were they doing?

Just as he was about to speak, England yawned. It was loud, and made every muscle in his face aware that it existed. Wiping his eyes, from both the yawn and the laughter, Arthur smiled at America. He felt every muscle in his body give the fuck up. He was even more tired than he’d been when he’d gotten home.  
“Okay old man, time for you to go to bed. I’ll clean up here. Just off with you okay?” Arthur found himself nodding and Alfred counted himself lucky. 

“Stay here tonight.” The words surprised them both, but Alfred found that the green eyes were steady under his gaze. He had intended on going back to his hotel, but found that it was no longer as appealing as it had been. When had Arthur’s apartment looked so familiar?

“Alright. I will, thank you. Now, get. We have a few joint meetings tomorrow and then we head to Washington first thing Friday morning. Boss sent out an email. You’re hitching a ride with me on my way back.” Arthur continued to nod. He found himself content to just give up to this, let himself get carried off back to sleep. He could figure out everything tomorrow.

With that, Alfred shooed him back to his room and shuttled all the dishes to the sink to be done tomorrow. It had been a long day, and he was just glad there were pairs of pajamas in the guest room.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the second time in a row he woke to the smell of food. This time he was just quicker at realizing why. Alfred had spent the night, and bacon was as good as anything to wake up to. Arthur realized he must have bought quite a bit of food if he was making bacon because the Brit was sure he hadn’t had that yesterday.

It was early. Arthur was surprised just how early it was. Usually, world meetings started at eight, to give everyone a chance to get over any last minute jetlag, but being up at six was a little unusual. Had Alfred actually set an alarm? Getting up Arthur picked out some black dress pants and a crisp white shirt. He made himself presentable in a bathroom, after a quick shower, and supposed Alfred hadn’t seen the bathroom that branched off of his room. The room itself was pretty simple, his freshly slept in bed, some dressers on either side, a nightstand on the left side and the door to the bathroom. His walls were white but at night, if you turned off the lights you could see glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, mapped out correctly with all the constellations. He didn’t want to get out of practice, so he tended to put them up whenever he move. Toweling his hair one last time he went off to go join Alfred in the kitchen, hoping the boy hadn’t eaten him out of house and home.

Alfred set down the second plate of bacon next to four stacks of pancakes, and three bowls of fruit. He reckoned Arthur would want some tea and decided he’d give it ago, after all, he hadn’t complained about his cup last night, so it must not have been too awful. He had already put the water on, and Arthur’s favorite stash of earl grey had been raided, so all that was left was to wait for the damn thing to whistle. Until then, he got out some orange juice he’d bought yesterday- he’d gotten a bit of everything, the cabbie was nice enough to let him keep it in the trunk- and poured himself a glass.

Running his hand through his partially damp hair he glanced at his watch. 5:55 am. Geez was he up. Rarely did Alfred find himself up before eight, let alone six. He guessed it was just so he could make an edible breakfast. Then again, he could always have just woken up late and bought them both some fast food, but Arthur was never really psyched about that one. Well, if the man let him spend the night, he could at least make breakfast, seeing as how he didn’t feel like insulting his ability to cook this early. He didn’t feel up to any actual arguments.

A shrill note reached his ears and he jumped, reaching for Arthur’s kettle. Pouring the water into a tiny little cup he mixed it properly and set it next to where he assumed Arthur would sit. He then turned around and started putting away all the extra food he’d gotten out, and washed some of the dishes from yesterday and this morning. He knew he’d left a mess and decided he’d preemptively strike against all actual arguments today.

“Alfred Jones doing the dishes. Never thought I’d see the day. Goodness, did you make tea as well?” Arthur wandered into the kitchen, green eyes wide at the freshly made tea. A faint smile glanced his lips at the taste. It wasn’t half bad. He suspected the boy had been practicing.

“Is it awful? I’m sorry if I wasted your tea, I know the prices here are ridiculous-” Arthur shushed him with a wave of his hand and sat down properly. No need to let Alfred work himself up over nothing. He was being surprisingly considerate. Apparently he thought the older of the two hated him. Quite the opposite really.

“Alfred, lad, calm down. It’s quite nice. Don’t fret, just sit and eat this quite sizable meal now will you? Lord knows I won’t be able to eat it myself.” He waved the other man towards his seat, the spread was too much for Arthur to have eaten in a week’s worth of breakfasts.

Serving themselves quietly Arthur realized Alfred was still in his clothes from yesterday and sighed. He couldn’t remember if he had anything Alfred’s size. Most of his clothes were quite small in comparison, and a little thinner round the middle. Not that the lad was fat, but having such a large land mass did tend to make one more massive than say an island. Alfred must've heard his sigh because when he looked back towards him he was being studied. The younger nation didn’t turn his gaze, obviously trying to figure out if there was something wrong.

“Stop fretting, goodness, I was just trying to remember if I had any clothes your size somewhere. The breakfast is lovely and the tea is quite nice. Now go back to eating, I suspect we’ll have to stop at your hotel room and fetch your clothes before the meetings.” Alfred nodded sheepishly. He’d been caught in the act, hoping he hadn’t done anything wrong. Geez, when did he go from Give No Fucks to Please Don’t Lecture Me Arthur? 

“We have the first two together right? Then I have a meeting with the Queen and then I believe it’s lunch. After that I only have some minor errands, and then my last meeting is with you, right?” Arthur nodded until he heard mention of Her Majesty. Now why would Alfred be paying her a visit, he never liked monarchies. 

“You’ll be seeing Her Majesty today? I hadn’t been told that.” Alfred raised his hand to the back of his neck and tipped his gaze from Arthur.

“Yeah, boss said I should interact with her more. After all, I’ve only met her three times in her rule. Not that she wasn’t cordial, I’m just never sure how to act around her. With you I can say whatever I want, even if I get lectured. With her I’m not sure where the line is. If I make a fool of myself I’ll never live it down.” He was sure his mouth was hanging open. His eyebrows couldn’t possibly be still on his face could they? Dear lord he felt as though he had whiplash. What is blazes was the boy doing? This was not him. This was not bold and brash who interrupted conversations, stuffed his face, and walked into walls. Where the hell was any of this coming from? Arthur must’ve been silent for too long because when Alfred did look at him he watched his face fall before steeling itself into something harder and more reserved. Shielded for the onslaught of laughter. It made Arthur cringe.

“Ah, Alfred, sorry. I. Look, your honesty is astounding at the moment, and I don’t- I’m not trying to- dear god man where is all this coming from? I’ve been trying to work it out and I must be missing something because I can’t remember the last time we were this brutally honest. I am not trying to insult, but we both know we’re never this this… Vulnerable. There is no way we don’t end up hurting each other. You just gave me ammunition to hurt you, and willingly. What in blazes is going on with you? Are you alright?” Again, this is not what Alfred had been expecting. With Arthur there were always two things being discussed. The actual topic at hand, and the reasoning behind speaking to one another at all. Arthur, for the second day in a row, had bypassed the actual topic and went straight for the underlying meaning. It caught the younger nation completely off guard, as he’d been expecting to be lectured in proper etiquette for dealing with the Queen. 

“Arthur I- I’m tired of fighting.” The words threw the older nation off kilter. “I’m tired of you lecturing me, and having to watch your face fall everytime I make a joke. Granted, they’re often unkind jokes, but the look on your face is- I know how to dance.” Now Arthur really hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sure you’re thinking I did it to play you as the fool but that’s not it. I wanted to spend time with you, not talking about politics, not arguing, not- I am just tired Arthur. Tell me you are too because if I’m the only one- if I'm just making this up- if you really still hate m-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. What- I can’t- I’ve never hated you! I’ve never been able to hate you, lord how I tried! Alfred, I have no clue what brought this on, I never knew you saw- I didn’t mean for you to- You’re not alone in this lad. I understand. Can you please hear me for a moment? We don’t have to fight. I thought you wanted to just bypass the history, to just act as though it never happened. While I could understand that, I was never able to and for that I’m sorry. Alfred,” Arthur’s voice was dripping with something Alfred couldn’t place. He’d heard it long ago, too long ago to remember what it was. “we can just stop you know? Everything doesn’t have to- we can be nice to each other. We can be friends, dear lord lad why couldn’t we?” Alfred’s chair scraped across the wooden floor as it flew back. He rose with such force that Arthur was caught off guard. “Lad what are you-?” 

He pulled him out of his chair and crushed him. Arthur let out a soft Oh as he was engulfed by the taller nation. Alfred’s head was pressed to his shoulder and Texas was pressed painfully into his face. Arthur’s arms were trapped at his sides and Alfred’s were wound tightly around his slight figure. The force of it was enough to break ribs and Arthur was sure the only reason he wasn’t suffering from a punctured lung was because Alfred was trying to hold back. He felt his heart rise in his throat and his chest tighten. He couldn’t breathe. He was so painfully aware of everything that was just America and this entire conversation was just too much. Reality would soon come weighing back down on them and Arthur wondered how exactly they would react to that. The hold wasn’t loosening so Arthur carefully fought until he could wrap his arms around Alfred’s back. Stooped over, Arthur could feel Alfred’s vertebrae and closed his eyes, resting his head on Alfred’s chest. He felt the same pang he felt last night and hoped Alfred couldn’t hear his heartbeat. He wasn’t sweating yet but he was sure there was a decent blush forming on his cheeks. 

Alfred slowly calmed each of his muscles, relaxing them one by one. He didn’t pull away, but Arthur knew the atmosphere had shifted. He counted the lack of water on his shoulder as a good sign. He knew Alfred was deciding where to go from here, whether to play it off, or accept it. This is a deciding moment. He feels a smile forming on the younger nation’s lips. He keeps his eyes shut. Alfred smells like bacon and the evergreen body soap he keeps in the spare bathroom. 

Carefully, Alfred pulled back, a soft grin on his face. He stopped about a foot from Arthur’s face. His eyes had opened when Alfred began to pull back and they were now caught in Alfred’s blue ones. They were shiny but smiling. Not the sarcastic ones he’d been expecting upon feeling the grin. The idiot had decided to take it seriously. 

“I’d like very much for us to be friends Arthur.” He felt himself smiling too, damn the bastard. Always making his sappy like this. He blinked slowly and rested his head on Alfred’s collarbone.

“I’d like that too.” He was hit with Alfred’s beaming expression, happiness rolling off him in waves. When Arthur looked back he was smacked with his trademark thousand watt smile, but his eyes remained honest. Again Arthur felt that tug, that little voice telling him to just lean forward-

“So Artie, uh” Alfred coughed, realizing the heart to heart that had just taken place, but also remembering they not only had breakfast, but meetings, and to go get Alfred’s clothes. “I don’t want to ruin the moment, but should we finish breakfast or-?” Arthur sighed a smile and nodded. 

“Yes, yes. Let’s finish eating and then we’ll call a car to take us to your hotel room. Now, eat this monstrosity you cooked.” Alfred shoveled food down faster than Arthur had ever seen him and was quite discerning. How did he eat so much and yet never gain any weight? America was always so fit, even if Arthur made passes at his weight. 

After they were finished Arthur rose and gathered the plates. Alfred started wrapping up the leftovers and they moved about the small space with ease. Once everything was put away Alfred helped Arthur with the dishes. There were really a lot of them and he felt it was unfair to make him clean up something he’d done. Arthur washed and Alfred put them away. They were done quickly and Arthur sent a text to his driver letting him know they’d be stopping at Alfred’s hotel room before going to the meeting. Once they were done Arthur turned to face Alfred.

“So you can dance then.” Alfred’s eyes flashed momentarily before Arthur was whisked through his flat, being spun with a perfect box step. He’d known how to dance for centuries, so he was more refined and practiced than anyone. He’d even taken to learning anything knew that people invented. He was very skilled at breakdancing.

“I’m not too good, but yes.” Alfred smiled as he led them to the doorway. His hand was on Arthur’s hip and just before they hit his front door, Alfred twirled him around and to a stop. Arthur was laughing. Alfred stopped at the sound and stared at him. He was full body laughing, not snickering behind his hand. 

“I can see that.” The simple sentence was chuckled out of the older nation as he slipped into his coat and locked the door behind them. The car was a shiny silver, sleek without overdoing it. Leave it to Arthur to find the most elegant car. The driver was smooth and Alfred sat behind him with Arthur to his left. They weren’t squished because the tiny little thing was actually quite spacious. Bigger on the inside.

Alfred looked out his window most of the trip, it didn’t take more than ten minutes to get there, but he saw a lot of London on the way. It reminded him of New York, but older. Sure you had your crazies and your tourists, but the underlying feel of the city radiated history. He’d been here during the Blitz and he could never have imagined it’d be what it is now. Back then the buildings had been broken and defeated, even if the people were still going strong. He preferred this mash of technology and history than that broken look any day. He wondered how Arthur did it, remained so strong. Even war torn and bombed he’d still had an air of grace about him. 

When they’d arrived Alfred had told Arthur to just wait in the car, he wouldn’t be more than a few minutes. Arthur took that time to run through emails and shoot out responses he should have sent yesterday. Sure enough there was an email detailing Alfred’s meeting with the Queen. Little bugger had been so keen on him sleeping he hadn’t had time to bring himself up to date. He couldn’t really be mad, he was full and well rested, but he did wish he could’ve given him some time to work. He did have duties to attend to after all.

When Alfred came back he was dressed in a blue dress shirt and black dress pants. No tie, though the meetings weren’t exactly formal. Still, meeting the Queen he should want to impress. As he got closer Arthur noticed that the shirt was the same color as his eyes, and every time he smiled it made his face light up. Ah, so that’s why he wasn’t wearing a suit. Cover up too much and you don’t notice the blue.

In his hands Alfred held a bag and Arthur watched as he told the driver to pop the boot. He assumed it was Alfred’s luggage but he didn’t know why he’d be bringing it along. They were still in London for one more night, it wouldn’t make sense to just pack everything up. Sliding in next to him, Arthur voiced his opinion as such.

“Actually Artie, I was wondering if I could stay with you again tonight? Since our last meeting it together I thought I’d make dinner again. Unless that’s not okay, I just assumed it’d be easier since we’ll be spending the flight together tomorrow and-” Alfred trailed off, waiting for Arthur to say something.

“Of course you can spend the night. And dinner again would be marvelous, did you want to have lunch together too?” Alfred nodded enthusiastically, flashing his prize winning grin. Arthur nodded and told the driver to pick them up at noon. They didn’t have to know where quite yet.

“Fantastic Artie, today’s gonna be so great! Except for the boring meetings, but hey! We finish early don’t we?” Arthur checked their schedule. They both finished at 4:00.

“We get done at 4, why?” He saw Alfred planning and scheming. Whipping out his iPhone Alfred googled something before handing his phone over to Arthur and the plan came together.

“Want to see the new Avengers movie? It came out last week, I’ve already seen it but I’ve been wanting to go again but haven’t had the time. It’s on me! Unless there’s something else you’d like to see, I haven't had the chance to keep up with all the new ones coming out. I haven’t even seen the last Hunger Games movie yet!” Arthur sighed and resigned himself to another workless night.

“Fine, but we are getting separate tubs of popcorn, you always eat it all within the first few minutes!” As if it were humanly possible, Alfred’s grin got wider. Arthur shrugged of the pang and they rode the rest of the way with Alfred chattering about Marvel Comics and how they were a lot nicer than DC, which tended to be quite gorey. When they arrived at the building Alfred held the door open for him and they went to go get their seats in the conference room. Here, everyone would know who they really were.

Alfred sat right next to Arthur for the entirety of the meeting. It was just the usual update of international trade and keeping tabs on some of the ships. Arthur listened attentively, taking notes when appropriate. He didn’t have to say anything, he was mostly there to offer advice, seeing as how he’d been a privateer for a good chunk of his history. Alfred on the other hand had his leg bouncing under the table. Good god the boy was full of energy. He wondered how he ever retained any information if he was always this unfocused.

At one point Alfred passed him a note, asking how much time was left because his watch was still at Arthur’s and there wasn’t a clock in the room. His handwriting had been reminiscent of a doctor, only legible by those who had risked prolonged exposure. Arthur always wrote in neat cursive, not like that frog and all his mushy loops. Alfred tended to lean towards printing, but dragged his hand across his letters so they were almost connected. 

By the end of the meeting Arthur had been brought up to speed about their international trading status while the only thing he was sure Alfred had learned was that they both owned a lot of boats. Blast it they were ships and he knew it. As they were leaving Alfred went up to one of the men who had spoken- Arthur hadn’t caught their name- and asked him a few questions. Arthur didn’t catch the conversation but the man smiled widely by the end of it and Alfred came bounding back over.

“So what was that then?” Again the door was held for him as the pair made their way back to the car. Their next meeting was on the other side of town. Arthur hated the inefficiency, but because they were meeting with two entirely different groups it couldn’t be avoided.

“That was John Milton, he trades directly with the President. He’s been invited to several black tie events and I’ve talked to him on several occasions. The man’s a history buff and we trade stories, well, he fact checks some of the more interesting things he’s heard. I was just asking him about his wife, she’s due next month.” By the time he was done speaking the two had reached the car and were on their way. Arthur found that maybe America did pay attention, just not to the same things he did. 

“Ah, I was wondering what you could be talking about. You didn’t seem to be paying much attention.” Alfred rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and smiled.

“Yeah, I don’t care much for politics. I prefer to spend my time talking to people, doing things, seeing things. I mean, I know we’re nations, but I don’t see why we are actually included in most of this stuff, what are we really going to do about any of it? The most we can do is offer advice, my boss it the one in charge. He should be the one sitting through these things, not me. What use is that information to me?” Alfred didn’t sound angry, he just sounded rehearsed. Like he’d had this conversation with himself before. 

“You’re right,” Alfred hadn’t been expecting that “the information isn’t always useful, I mean I don’t care if we made a few hundred pounds last year, I want to know the position of naval troops and the status of Korea’s nuclear weapons. But not every day is war anymore. When we’re at peace we get the mundane day to day dealings. So we do as our boss tells us and listen to the tedious.” Of all of Arthur’s lectures, this one was by far the nicest. He was not berating, he was not scolding, he was simply enlightening.

“Do you ever.” Alfred stopped and seemed to consider his question. “Do you ever miss the war? Any of them really, I mean not the deaths and the pain and the-” Alfred looked at Arthur’s chest, remembering the bandages he’d had during the blitz. There had been so much blood. “I’m talking about the sense of duty, like what you were doing actually meant something?” Arthur found himself nodding. He knew what America was talking about. That feeling that every action you took was important, and that you were relevant.

“Yes. There are days I miss it.” The rest of the ride was silence. They were to the meeting quick and seated even quicker. It was just as boring as the last one, except this time the not Alfred passed was on a different subject entirely.

“What do I do when I meet her highness? Like, what should I do? Do I call her the Queen?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at him but found he was staring intently at their speaker, his cheeks a deep crimson.

“She is referred to as Her Majesty or Queen Elizabeth the Second. You bow on first arriving and if she holds out her hand you kiss it. She tends not to do that though. Don’t ask too seriously after her health and steer clear of Diane. Otherwise she will ask you questions or steer the conversation. You’ll be fine. I’ll give you a ride over to the palace before my meeting.” Alfred looked relieved at the note and smiled a thank you before composing himself from the embarrassing question. He never knew how to act around nobles, and until now the Queen had never shown or expressed an interest in meeting him. With Kate it was a lot more relaxed and they were on a first name basis, same with William. It was just Her Majesty who seemed to be immune to Alfred’s charm. She always watched him like she knew something about him, like a secret he didn’t know he had.

The meeting was over and they were bundled back into the car. Arthur could feel the nervousness radiating off Alfred. His leg was bouncing and it made the whole car shake. Damn his strength, he was pretty sure he could rip the wheels off the car if he put his mind to it, not that that was in any way comforting. After a couple minutes Arthur let out a sigh and slammed his hand onto Alfred’s leg, effectively calming his leg. Alfred didn’t look at him and instead schooled his eyes so that the sun would reflect off Texas. Arthur wasn’t sure when Alfred had picked up that trick but knew that whenever he hid his eyes he was trying to mask something. It’d been his go to tactic in the war whenever he was upset. 

“Alfred calm down. I don’t understand why you’re so worked up. You’ve met her before any the meeting should only be an hour or so. You’ll do fine, I assure you. Now get out of the car, you don’t want to be late.” Alfred nodded and swallowed, running his hands down the front of his shirt before giving Arthur a test run smile to shake his nervousness. Getting out of the car he waved one last time before being escorted inside.

Red and gold. The entire interior screamed gold and royalty as the lavish paintings and carpeting hit Alfred like a slap in the face. Nothing in America was like this, they were more modern in their houses of state. It’s beauty was ancient and Alfred had been here dozens of times. At least twice under the rule of each President. The grand staircases were bypassed for the throne room, to which he was lead past and into separate sitting quarters. He felt overwhelmed and bombarded as he sat on the overly yellow chair. The Queen had been held up so there was nothing for him to do but sit and wait. Hopefully he didn’t suffocate.

When Her Majesty entered Alfred rose and bowed as Arthur had said. She didn’t offer her hand so instead Alfred smiled his most earnest smile, not going for overbearing, but trying to seem a little more personal than simply polite. They sat down and were offered tea. Alfred accepted on the account of Arthur berating him last time he formally declined tea.

“So Alfred, how have you been lately?” She smiled as she sipped her tea, Earl Grey, just like Arthur. That thought made him smile and he imagined Arthur dressed in a pristine suit sipping his favorite tea in the Queen’s palace.

“I’ve been awes- er.” He turned a bit pink, could he say awesome in from of the Queen? In response she just laughed so he took it as a good sign. “I’ve been awesome Your Majesty, Arthur and I have been spending the last few days together. We were going to see the new Avengers movie later today. How have you been?” She smiled at the relaxed language and Alfred decided he would speak as politely, but honestly as possible.

“I am well. How is Arthur? I don’t see him now as much as I used to. He tells me he’s been teaching you how to dance.” Leave it to Arthur to tell the Queen America can’t dance.

“Arthur’s fantastic! A little overworked, he nearly passed out on our walk back to his place from a coffee shop, but he laughed today! As for the dancing, yes, I have been tactfully avoiding it for near two hundred years and Arthur offered his help- he’s really quite skilled- so of course I said yes.” Alfred beamed and watched as Her Majesty donned a light smile. She was really something back in the day. Brought models to shame. 

“I’ll see what I can do about his schedule, I think he deserves some time off don’t you? Aren’t you having some big party next month for some comedian? I hear Ms. Fey is quite hilarious. I know Ms. Poehler was a smashing hit on her new show. The 18th yes?” Alfred nodded, knowing where this was going and excited Arthur would be free. “Yes, I’ll give him that week off. Do something nice for him, he doesn’t get out as much as he used to.”

“Yeah, Arthur’s turned workaholic lately. It’s been a few decades since I’ve been able to coax him into doing something that wasn’t work related in one way or another. The last time I saw him relaxed was probably before the Revolution. Any time he was near the ocean I swear it was near impossible for him to not be smiling.” Alfred remembered the day clearly. It was the unveiling of a brand new ship. The fastest in the fleet and Arthur was going to be her Captain. He’d been so happy for him and had spent the entire day glued to his side, wanting to bask in his good mood.

The Queen looked at him for a moment, as if wondering whether to ask a question before asking “What was Arthur like back then? I’ve asked Francis, but we both know how he is. As for Matthew, well, he never goes beyond formalities. Too polite is you ask me.” Alfred nodded, of course Queen Elizabeth talked to Francis and Mattie. She was the fucking Queen of England.

“Arthur was a fearsome, dignified commander. As soon as he stepped on a ship you knew he meant business. He knew exactly what he was doing, and what you should be doing. His men respected him and did what he asked without question. I think he was one of few Captains to have never have experienced a mutiny. He was a fair leader and gave out punishment only when needed. If you mean outside of that then… Arthur was happy. There was rarely a time when he wasn’t smiling, unless Francis was around. He was a lot louder, less confined. He still had his drive though, that is one of the few things he’s held on to over the years. Gosh you should’ve seen him in battle. He was nothing if not at home.” When Alfred finished he realized he had probably said more than he should have. Arthur didn’t like being talked about behind his back. “Er, please don’t tell him I said that. I don’t want him to think I was talking about him behind his back, I don’t usually tell people that I-er.” She just laughed and nodded. 

“Don’t fret dear. He’d know you mean well. Besides, it’s not as though he can blame me. No one ever tells me anything juicy about you countries. I’d love to have some embarrassing stories to loom over him. You don’t happen to have any do you?” Alfred could see why Arthur liked her. She was refined with a hint of mischief.

“Let’s see. There are a couple drinking stories I could tell you. One ends with a very confused goat…”


End file.
